True to Perry Mason's predictions, Claude Drumm introduced the clerk at the sporting goods store, who had been brought from Santa Barbara. The clerk identified the murder weapon as one that had been sold to the defendant on the 29th day of September of the preceding year. He showed the sale on the register of firearms; showed the signature of Bessie Forbes.
Triumphantly, Claude Drumm made a gesture toward Perry Mason.
"You," he declaimed, "may crossexamine the witness."
"No questions," drawled Perry Mason.
Claude Drumm frowned as the witness left the stand, then turned toward the courtroom and said, dramatically. "Call Thelma Benton."
Thelma Benton gave her testimony in a low, resonant voice. In response to questions by Claude Drumm she sketched rapidly the human drama in the life of the dead man. She told of his life in Santa Barbara; of the infatuation with Paula Cartright; of the elopement; of the purchase of the house on Milpas Drive; of the happiness of Forbes and his companion, in their illicit romance; then the mysterious tenant of the adjoining house; the continued inspection through binoculars; the sudden realization that this neighbor was none other than the wronged husband; the abrupt departure of Paula Cartright, and then of the murder.
"Crossexamine," declaimed Claude Drumm triumphantly.
Perry Mason got slowly to his feet.
"Your Honor," he said, "it will be readily apparent that this witness may, perhaps, be a witness whose testimony is of greatest importance. I understand there will be the usual five or ten minutes recess at approximately threethirty o'clock. It is now threeten, and I am perfectly willing to commence my crossexamination, and have it interrupted by the usual afternoon recess. But, aside from that interruption, I submit that I should be able to crossexamine this witness without interruption during the rest of the afternoon."
Judge Markham raised his eyebrows and glanced at Claude Drumm.
"There is no objection to that, is there, Mr. District Attorney?" he asked.
"None whatever," said Claude Drumm sneeringly.
"Crossexamine as long as you want to."
"I don't wish to be misunderstood," said Perry Mason. "I would like very much either to postpone my crossexamination until tomorrow, or to have it understood that it may be completed today."
"Proceed with the crossexamination, Counselor," said Judge Markham, rapping with his gavel. "This Court has no intention of interrupting the crossexamination by adjournment, if that is what you have in mind."
Claude Drumm made an elaborately polite gesture. "You can cross examine this witness for a year, if you want to," he said.
"That will do!" snapped Judge Markham. "Proceed with the crossexamination, Counselor."
Perry Mason was once more the center of attention. His intimation that the crossexamination was to be of the greatest importance swung the attention of every one in the courtroom to him. The fact that his previous crossexaminations had been so perfunctory, served to emphasize his cross examination of this witness.
"When you left Santa Barbara with Mr. Forbes and Mrs. Cartright," he said, "did Mrs. Cartright know of your capacity?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know what Mr. Forbes told her?"
"Naturally not."
"You had previously been the secretary of Mr. Forbes?"
"Yes."
"Had you," asked Perry Mason, "been more than a secretary?"
Claude Drumm was on his feet with a vigorous and vehement objection. Judge Markham promptly sustained the objection.
"It goes to show motive, Your Honor," said Perry Mason.
"The witness has as yet given no testimony which would make any such motive of the slightest importance," snapped the Court. "The ruling has been made, Counselor. You will proceed with the crossexamination and avoid such questions in the future."
"Very well," said Perry Mason.
"When you left Santa Barbara with Clinton Forbes and Paula Cartright, you were traveling by automobile, Mrs. Benton?"
"Yes."
"And in that automobile was a police dog?"
"Yes."
"A police dog named Prince?"
"Yes."
"The dog that was killed at the time of the murder?"
"Yes," said Thelma Benton with sudden vehemence. "He gave his life trying to defend his master against the attack of a cowardly assassin!"
Perry Mason nodded slowly. "And that was the dog that came with you in the automobile?"
"Yes."
"That dog was devoted to Paula Cartright?"
"Yes, he was quite friendly with her at the time we left Santa Barbara, and he became very much attached to her."
"And that dog previously had been in the household of Mr. and Mrs. Forbes?"
"That is correct."
"You had seen the dog there?"
"Yes."
"And that dog was also attached to Mrs. Forbes?"
"Naturally."
"The dog also became attached to you?"
"Yes, it was an animal with an affectionate disposition."
"Yes," said Perry Mason, "I can understand that. And the dog howled almost continuously during the night of the fifteenth of October of the present year?"
"It did not."
"Did you hear the dog howl?"
"I did not."
"Isn't it a fact, Mrs. Benton, that the dog left the house, stood near the garage addition which was under construction, and howled dismally?"
"He did not."
"Now," said Perry Mason, abruptly changing the subject, "you have identified the letter which Mrs. Cartright left for Mr. Forbes when she decided to rejoin her husband?"
"Yes."
"She had been confined to her room with influenza?"
"Yes."
"And was recuperating?"
"Yes."
"And she abruptly summoned a taxicab when Mr. Forbes was absent?"
"When Mr. Forbes," said the witness, with icy acidity, "had been decoyed from the house by a false complaint which had been filed against him with a district attorney, by yourself and Arthur Cartright, the woman rejoined Mr. Cartright. She did it surreptitiously."
"You mean," said Perry Mason, "that she ran away with her own husband."
"She deserted Mr. Forbes, with whom she had been living for a year," said the witness.
"And she left this letter behind?"
"Yes."
"You recognize that letter as being in the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright?"
"I do."
"Were you familiar with the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright before she left Santa Barbara?"
"Yes."
"Now," said Perry Mason, producing a piece of paper, "I show you a paper which purports to be in the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright, and ask you if that handwriting is the same as that on the letter?"
"No," said the witness slowly, "it is not." She bit her lip for a moment, then added suddenly, "Mrs. Cartright, I think, made a conscious attempt to change her handwriting after she left Santa Barbara. She was trying to keep her real identity from being discovered by anyone with whom she might come in contact."
"I see," said Perry Mason. "Now I show you a sheet of paper which purports to contain handwriting by Bessie Forbes, the defendant in this action. That is not the same handwriting as is contained in this letter that Mrs. Cartright left behind her, is it?"
"Certainly not."
"And," said Perry Mason, "may I ask that you write something on a sheet of paper, so that your handwriting may be compared?"
The witness hesitated.
"This is highly irregular, Your Honor," said Claude Drumm, getting to his feet.
Perry Mason shook his head.
"The witness," he said, "has testified as to the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright. I have the right to crossexamine her, by showing her other handwritings, and ask her opinion as to the identity of those handwritings, compared with the writing in the note."
"I think you are right," said Judge Markham. "The objection will be overruled."
Thelma Benton took a sheet of paper, wrote swift lines upon it.
Perry Mason examined the writing and nodded.
"I think we will both concede," he said, "that that is entirely different from the handwriting which appears on the letter which Mrs. Cartright left behind."
"Naturally," said the witness in a tone of cool sarcasm.
Judge Markham fidgeted uneasily.
"It has approached the hour of the usual afternoon recess," he said. "I believe you stated, Counselor, that you had no objection to an interruption of the crossexamination for the usual afternoon recess?"
"None whatever, Your Honor."
"Very well, the Court will take a recess for ten minutes. The jury will remember the admonition of the Court, not to converse about the case or permit it to be discussed in your presence."
The judge arose from his chair, flashed Perry Mason a curiously speculative gaze, then walked into chambers.
Perry Mason looked at his watch and frowned.
"Go over to the window, Frank," he said to Frank Everly, "and see if you can notice any unusual activity on the part of the newsboys at the corner."
The clerk walked to the window of the courtroom, looked down on the street.
Perry Mason, ignoring the concentrated gaze of the curious spectators, slumped down in his chair and bowed his head in thought. His strong, capable fingers made little drumming motions on the arm of the chair.
Frank Everly turned from the window, came running back toward the counsel table.
"There's a lot of excitement down there," he said. "There's been a truck distributing papers. It looks like an extra. The boys are calling them."
Perry Mason looked at the clock and smiled.
"Go on down and pick up a couple of the newspapers," he said.
He turned his head and nodded to Bessie Forbes.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Forbes," he said, "that you've had such an ordeal, but I don't think it will be long now."
She looked at him with puzzled eyes.
"Frankly," she said, "the talk that I overheard this noon was that the case was going very badly against me."
The deputy sheriff who had her in charge moved slightly forward in order to be at her side. Claude Drumm, who had been smoking a cigarette in the corridor, came stalking back into the courtroom, his importance entirely reestablished in his own mind. He strode with welltailored efficiency, a dignified superiority toward the criminal attorney who must needs make his living from the trial of cases, rather than bask in the dignity of a monthly salary check, issued with the clocklike regularity with which government officials expend the money of taxpayers.
Frank Everly came bursting into the courtroom with two newspapers, his eyes wide, his lips sagging open.
"They've found the bodies!" he shouted, and rushed toward Perry Mason.
Perry Mason picked up one of the newspapers and held it so that the startled eyes of Claude Drumm could see the headlines.
"Millionaire's Mansion is Murder Farm," screamed in glaring headlines across the entire front of the page. Lower, and in slightly smaller type, appeared the words: "Bodies of Cartright and wife discovered under floor of Forbes' garage."
Claude Drumm sat bolt erect, stared with bulging eyes. A bailiff rushed into the courtroom carrying a newspaper, and went on a half run into the judge's chambers. A spectator entered the courtroom with an open newspaper, babbling excitedly. Within a matter of seconds, he was the center of a circle that listened with bated breath.
Claude Drumm abruptly reached forward.
"May I see that newspaper?" he snapped.
"Delighted," said Perry Mason, and handed him the second newspaper.
Thelma Benton walked swiftly over to Claude Drumm.
"I've got to see you a moment," she said.
Perry Mason glanced through the account in the newspaper, passed it over to Frank Everly.
"Go ahead and read it, Frank," he said. "Looks like The Chronicle had a scoop."
"But why didn't the officers know about it?"
"They probably used friendly deputies and kept it sewed up until they could get a paper on the street. If it had hit the general office at headquarters, every newspaper in the city would have been onto it."
Perry Mason looked at the clock, then arose, stretched, yawned, and sauntered into the chambers of Judge Markham.
The judge sat at his table reading the newspaper account, with eyes that held an expression of puzzled bewilderment.
"I don't like to bother you, Judge," said Perry Mason, "but I notice that the time allotted for the recess is up. I am very anxious to conclude my examination of this witness prior to the evening adjournment. In fact, I think that it may well be possible that we can get the case disposed of today."
Judge Markham looked up at Perry Mason, his eyes glinting shrewdly.
"I am wondering," he said, "as to the purpose…" His voice trailed into silence.
"Yes?" said Perry Mason.
"Yes," said Judge Markham dryly.
"Just what were you wondering, Judge?" said Perry Mason.
Judge Markham frowned.
"I don't know as I should discuss it," he said, "but I am wondering at the peculiar nature of the request you made that you be allowed to complete your crossexamination of the witness today."
Perry Mason shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
"Either," Judge Markham said, "you are the most remarkably lucky man practicing at the bar, or else the most shrewdly adroit; I can't tell which."
Perry Mason did not answer the question directly, but said instead, "I have always figured that a lawsuit was like an iceberg — only a fraction of it was visible to the naked eye, the balance of it is beneath the surface."
Judge Markham got to his feet.
"Well, Counselor," he said, "be that as it may, you are entitled to go on with the case."
Perry Mason walked back to the courtroom. Almost immediately Judge Markham entered from his chambers. The bailiff pounded frantically for order, and pounded for several seconds before his admonitions were heeded. The courtroom was in a seething uproar of buzzing conversation, excited comments, scurrying motion.
Order, at length, was restored. The jurors took their seats. Perry Mason slumped in his chair, apparently utterly unmoved by the startling events of the last few minutes.
"Thelma Benton was on the stand for further crossexamination," said Judge Markham.
Claude Drumm got to his feet.
"Your Honor," he said, "a most startling and unexpected development has taken place. In view of the circumstances, I know that Your Honor will not require me to mention the nature of that development, at least in the presence of the jury. But I feel that as an officer of the state, as a deputy prosecutor who is familiar with the facts of this case, my presence is urgently required elsewhere, and I request an adjournment of this case until tomorrow morning."
Judge Markham looked over his glasses at Perry Mason.
"Any objections, Counselor?" he asked.
"Yes," said Perry Mason, getting to his feet. "The rights of the defendant demand that the crossexamination of this witness be concluded at this session of the court. I mentioned this matter before I started the crossexamination, and that was the specific understanding which I had with counsel."
"That is correct," said Judge Markham. "The request for a continuance will be denied."
"But," shouted Claude Drumm, "Your Honor must understand…"
"That will do, Counselor," said Judge Markham. "The motion for a continuance has been denied. Proceed, Mr. Mason."
Perry Mason looked at Thelma Benton for a moment with a long, steady stare of accusation.
She lowered her eyes and fidgeted on the witness stand. Her face was as white as the wall in back of her.
"Now," said Perry Mason slowly, "as I understand your testimony, Paula Cartright left the residence on Milpas Drive in a taxicab on the morning of October 17th."
"That is correct," she said.
"You saw her leave?"
"Yes," she said in a low voice.
"Do I understand," said Perry Mason, raising his voice, "that you saw Paula Cartright alive on the morning of October 17th of this year?"
The witness bit her lip, hesitated.
"Let the records show," said Perry Mason urbanely, "that the witness hesitates."
Claude Drumm jumped to his feet.
"That," he said, "is manifestly unfair, and I object to the question, as argumentative; as already asked and answered; as not being proper crossexamination."
"The objection is overruled," said Judge Markham. "The record will show that the witness hesitates appreciably in answering."
Thelma Benton looked up. Her eyes were dark with panic.
"I can't say that I saw her personally," she said. "I heard steps going down the stairs from her room. I saw a taxicab drawn up in front of the place, and I saw a woman getting into the taxicab, then the cab drove away. I took it for granted that the woman was Mrs. Cartright."
"Then you didn't see her?" pressed Perry Mason.
"No," she said in a low voice, "I didn't see her."
"Now," said Perry Mason, "you have identified this letter as being in the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright."
"Yes, sir."
Perry Mason produced the photostatic copy of the telegram which had been sent from Midwick.
"And," he said, "will you identify the photostatic copy of this telegram as also being in the handwriting of Paula Cartright?"
The witness looked at the telegram, hesitated, bit her lip.
"They're the same handwriting, are they not?" asked Perry Mason — "those two documents?"
When she answered, her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible.
"Yes," she said, "I guess they're in the same handwriting."
"Don't you know?" said Perry Mason. "You unhesitatingly identified the letter as being in the handwriting of Paula Cartright. How about this telegram? Is that, or is that not, in the handwriting of Paula Cartright?"
"Yes," said the witness in an almost inaudible voice, "it is Mrs. Cartright's handwriting."
"So," said Perry Mason, "Mrs. Cartright sent this telegram from Midwick on the morning of October 17th?"
"I guess so," said the witness in a low voice.
Judge Markham pounded with his gavel.
"Mrs. Benton," he said, "you've got to speak up so the jury can understand you. Speak more loudly, please."
She raised her head, stared at the judge, and swayed slightly.
Claude Drumm was on his feet.
"Your Honor," he said, "it now appears that the witness is ill. I again ask for a continuance, out of justice to this witness, who has doubtless sustained a very great shock."
Judge Markham slowly shook his head.
"I think the crossexamination should continue," he said.
"If," said Claude Drumm in pleading desperation, "this case can be continued until tomorrow, there is some chance it might be dismissed."
Perry Mason whirled about and stood with his feet planted firmly on the floor, spread slightly apart; his head thrust forward, his manner belligerent; his voice raised until it seemed to echo in the rafters of the courtroom.
"If the Court please," he thundered, "that is exactly the situation I wish to avoid. A public accusation has been made against the defendant in this case, and the defendant is entitled to an acquittal at the hands of a jury. A dismissal by the prosecution would still leave her with a blot upon her name."
Judge Markham's voice sounded low and eventoned, compared with the vehement eloquence of Perry Mason.
"The motion is once more denied," he said. "The case will continue."
"Now," said Perry Mason, "will you kindly explain how Paula Cartright could write a letter and a telegram on the morning of October 17th of this year, when you know, of your own knowledge, that Paula Cartright was murdered on the evening of October 16th?"
Claude Drumm was on his feet.
"That," he said, "is objected to as argumentative, calling for a conclusion of the witness, not proper crossexamination and assuming a fact not in evidence."
Judge Markham paused for a moment, stared at the white, drawn face of the witness.
"I am going to sustain the objection," he said.
Perry Mason reached for the letter which had been identified as being in the handwriting of Mrs. Cartright, placed it on the table in front of the witness, and pounded it with his fist.
"Didn't you write that letter?" he asked of the witness.
"No!" she flared.
"Isn't it your handwriting?"
"You know that it is not," she said. "The handwriting doesn't resemble mine in the least."
"On the 17th day of October," said Perry Mason, "your right hand was in a bandage, was it not?"
"Yes."
"You had been bitten by a dog."
"Yes. Prince had been poisoned, and when I tried to give him an emetic he accidentally bit my hand."
"Yes," said Perry Mason. "But the fact remains that your right hand was bandaged on the 17th day of October of this year, and remained bandaged for several days thereafter, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"And you couldn't hold a pen in that hand?"
There was a moment of silence, then the witness said suddenly: "Yes. And that goes to show how false your accusation is that I wrote that letter or that telegram. My hand was crippled so that I couldn't possibly have held a pen in it."
"Were you," snapped Perry Mason, "in Midwick on the 17th day of October of this year?"
The witness hesitated.
"Didn't you," went on Perry Mason without waiting for an answer, "charter an airplane and fly to Midwick on the 17th day of October of this year?"
"Yes," said the witness, "I thought I might find Mrs. Cartright in Midwick, and I went there by plane."
"And didn't you file this telegram at the telegraph office in Midwick while you were there?" asked Perry Mason.
"No," she said, "I have told you that I couldn't have written that telegram."
"Very well," said Perry Mason, "let's go back a moment to this mangled hand of yours. It was so badly mangled you couldn't possibly hold a pen in your right hand?"
"Yes."
"And that was on the 17th day of October of this year?"
"Yes."
"Also on the 18th day of October?"
"Yes."
"Also on the 19th?"
"Yes."
"Very well," said Perry Mason, "isn't it a fact that you kept a diary over the period I have mentioned?"
"Yes," she said swiftly, before she thought, then suddenly caught her breath, bit her lip and said, "No."
"Which is it," said Perry Mason, "yes or no?"
"No," she said.
Perry Mason whipped a torn sheet of paper from his pocket.
"As a matter of fact," he said, "isn't that a sheet of paper which came from a diary which you kept on or about that date — to wit, the 19th of October of this year?"
The witness stared at the torn piece of paper, said nothing.
"And isn't it," said Perry Mason, "a fact that you are ambidextrous; that you were keeping the diary during that time, and that you made entries in it with a pen that was held in your left hand? Isn't it a fact that you have always been able to write with your left hand, and that you do so whenever you wish to disguise your writing? Isn't it a fact that you have in your possession such a diary, from which this is a torn leaf, and that the handwriting on this torn leaf is exactly identical with the handwriting shown on the letter purported to have been written by Paula Cartright, and on the telegram purported to have been filed by her?"
The witness rose to her feet, looked at Judge Markham with glassy eyes, stared at the jury, then parted her white lips and screamed.
Bedlam broke loose in the courtroom. Bailiffs pounded for order. Deputies ran toward the witness.
Claude Drumm was on his feet, frantically shouting a motion for adjournment which was lost in the turmoil of noise.
Perry Mason walked back to the counsel table and sat down.
Deputies reached the side of Thelma Benton. They took her elbows and started to pilot her from the witness stand. She abruptly pitched forward in a dead faint.
The voice of Claude Drumm made itself audible above the confused roar of the courtroom.
"Your Honor," he shouted, "in the name of common decency, in the name of humanity, I demand a continuation of this case, in order to enable this witness to regain some measure of composure and health, before there is any further crossexamination. It is apparent, regardless of the cause, that she is a very sick woman. To continue with such a merciless crossexamination at this time is lacking in decency and humanity!"
Judge Markham slitted his eyes in thought, glanced over at Perry Mason.
Perry Mason's voice was low and calm, and the hubbub in the courtroom quieted so that spectators might hear him.
"May I ask counsel if that is the only reason he is asking for a continuance?" said Perry Mason.
"Certainly," said Claude Drumm.
"May I also ask counsel," said Perry Mason, "in view of the request for a continuance, if he has any other witnesses, or if this is his last witness?"
"This," said Claude Drumm, "is my last witness. I grant counsel the right to cross examine her. The district attorney's office joins with counsel in a desire to find out the true facts of this case.
"But I cannot consent to the continuation of a crossexamination of a woman who is manifestly suffering from such a terrific nerve strain."
"I think, Counselor," said Judge Markham, "that the motion at this time is well taken, at least for a short continuance."
Perry Mason's smile was urbane.
"Your Honor," he said, "the motion for a continuance is no longer necessary. It gives me pleasure to announce that in view of the mental state of the witness, and my desire to complete the case, I am finished with my crossexamination."
He sat down.
Claude Drumm stood by his chair at the counsel table, staring incredulously at Perry Mason.
"You're finished?" he asked.
"Yes," said Perry Mason.
"Under those circumstances," said Claude Drumm, "I am taken by surprise, Your Honor, and I would like to have the case continued until tomorrow morning."
"For what reason?" asked Judge Markham.
"Simply in order to get my mind clear upon certain facts, and to ascertain what course I desire to take," said Claude Drumm.
"But," pointed out Judge Markham, "in response to a question by counsel, you have stated that this was your last witness."
"Very well," said Claude Drumm suddenly. "I rest. Let counsel go ahead with his defense."
Perry Mason bowed to the court and to the jury.
"The defendant," he said, "also rests."
"What?" shouted Claude Drumm. "You are putting on no evidence whatever?"
"The defendant," said Perry Mason with dignity, "rests."
The voice of Judge Markham was calm and judicial.
"Do you gentlemen desire to argue the case?" he asked.
"Yes," said Perry Mason, "I would like to argue the case."
"And you, Counselor?" the judge asked of Claude Drumm.
"Your Honor, I cannot argue this case at the present time. It will require some preparation. Once more I ask for an adjournment…"
"Once more," he said, in a tone of finality, "the request is denied. I feel that the rights of the defendant in this case are entitled to consideration at the hands of the Court. Go ahead and argue, Mr. Drumm."
Claude Drumm got to his feet.
"Your Honor," he said, "I think I shall ask the Court for a dismissal of this case."
The court nodded. "Very well," he said, "if…"
Perry Mason was on his feet.
"Your Honor," he said, "I object to the motion. I believe that I have previously stated my position in regard to it. The defendant in this case is entitled to have her name cleared. A dismissal of the case would not do that."
Judge Markham's eyes suddenly narrowed. He looked at Perry Mason with the wary watchfulness of a cat regarding a mouse hole.
"Do I understand, Counselor, that you object to a dismissal of this case by the prosecution?"
"I do."
"Very well," said Judge Markham, "we will let the jury take the case. The deputy district attorney will proceed with the argument."
Claude Drumm got to his feet, walked toward the jury box.
"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "there has been a most unexpected development in this case. I do not know what course I should have taken, had the case been continued so that I could give a complete consideration to the facts. However, as the facts now stand, the defendant in this case is shown to have been present at the house where the murder was committed, at the time the murder was committed. She is shown to have had a motive strong enough to impel her to murder the decedent. The gun with which the killing was done was a gun which she had purchased. Under the circumstances, I feel that she should not be acquitted. I am frank to state I do not feel that the state should ask for the death penalty. I am frank to state that I am somewhat confused by the sudden turn of events, but I feel that these matters should be considered by you. Gentlemen, I have nothing further to say."
In savage dignity Claude Drumm strode back to the counsel table and resumed his seat.
Perry Mason approached the jurors, stared at them quizzically for a few moments.
"Gentlemen," he said, "a fortunate break on the part of the main witness for the prosecution has saved you the possibility of working an irreparable wrong upon an innocent woman.
"The evidence in this case is purely circumstantial. From the circumstances of the case, the prosecution is entitled to make any deductions it desires; also, the defense is entitled to make any deductions it desires.
"Let me, therefore, take the circumstances of this case and outline to you first, the impossibility of the crime having been committed by the defendant, and, second, the possibility that it was committed by some other person.
"In the first place, the evidence shows that the person who murdered Clinton Forbes entered the house either with a passkey or with a key which was rightfully in the possession of such person. The evidence shows that that person went to the room where Forbes was engaged in shaving. The evidence shows that Forbes strode out of his bedroom into the library to see who the intruder was; that he then became alarmed, ran back to the bathroom, and liberated the police dog which had been chained in the bathroom. It is apparent that when he heard some one in the library, Forbes mopped the lather from his face with a towel as he walked out to the library. After he beheld the intruder, he ran back to the bathroom and unchained the dog. As he did so, he used both hands to unchain the dog, and dropped the towel containing the lather which had been wiped from his face. This towel was dropped near the edge of the bathtub, in exactly the position where it would have been dropped, logically and naturally, under the circumstances. The dog sprang toward the intruder with bared teeth, and as counsel for the prosecution has so aptly remarked, and as witnesses for the prosecution have so truthfully testified, endeavored to save the life of his master. The assassin shot the dog at close quarters. The powder burns are on the fur of the dog. That shows that the dog was actually attacking the murderer when the shots were fired.
"After those shots were fired, the intruder grappled with Clinton Forbes. It will never be known whether the intruder came to meet Clinton Forbes, or whether Forbes rushed to meet the intruder, but the shots which killed Forbes were fired at close range.
"Gentlemen, it is the contention of the prosecution that those shots were fired by the defendant in this case.
"There is, gentlemen, one unanswerable objection to such a theory. That is, that if the intruder had been the defendant in this case, the police dog would not have rushed upon the defendant; nor would it have been necessary for the defendant to have shot the dog. The dog knew the defendant and loved her. The dog would never have charged upon the defendant under those circumstances, but would rather have given vent to joyous barks of canine gratification that the two persons whom it loved had been reunited.
"That, gentlemen, disposes of the case of the prosecution.
"Under the law relating to circumstantial evidence, it is necessary that before a conviction can be had at the hands of a jury, the jurors must be convinced that the circumstances can be explained upon no reasonable hypothesis, other than the guilt of the defendant.
"Now, let me point out the significant circumstances which indicate that the murder was committed by some other person:
"There is evidence in this case that Arthur Cartright complained of a dog howling on the premises of Clinton Forbes, on the night of October 15th. The dog howled continuously during the night, the howls being from the back of the house and in the neighborhood of the addition to the garage which was being duly constructed.
"Gentlemen, let us suppose that there had been an altercation between Paula Cartright and Clinton Forbes. Let us suppose that Clinton Forbes, during that altercation, had murdered Paula Cartright. Let us suppose that he and Thelma Benton, together, had scooped out a shallow grave in the soil where the cement floor of the new garage building was to be poured. And we might even suppose, in view of the terms of the note which Thelma Benton subsequently wrote, as purporting to come from the pen of Paula Cartright, then the quarrel resulted from the discovery of an intimacy between Forbes and Thelma Benton by Paula Cartright.
"Mrs. Cartright had given up her social position, her right to be considered a respectable member of society, in order to run away with Clinton Forbes, where she lived with him under such circumstances that she was barred from all friendships of her past life; could form no new friendships; was a woman continually haunted by the fear of discovery. And then she found that the sacrifice she had made was for nothing; that the love she thought she had gained by such a sacrifice was, in reality, a hollow mockery, and that Clinton Forbes was no more true to her than he had been true to the wife whom he had deserted in Santa Barbara.
"Paula Cartright quarreled bitterly and her lips were sealed forever by the two assassins who secretly buried her body. The Chinese cook was asleep. Only the stars of the night and the guilty consciences of the murderous pair who scooped out the shallow grave knew what was going on. But there was one other who knew. That was a faithful police dog. He smelled the cold corpse. He knew that it was interred in a shallow grave and he watched by that grave and howled.
"Arthur Cartright had been watching the house. He didn't realize the significance of the steady howling of the dog, but it did prey upon his overwrought nerves. He took steps to see that the dog did not howl any more, thinking at the time he instituted such steps that the howling of the dog was nothing more than a vagary of the canine mind. But at some time during the next night, the frightful significance of those howls dawned upon him. The possibility crashed home, that the dog was mourning the passing of one whom the dog held dear. His mind filled with suspicion, Arthur Cartright set out to investigate.
"Clinton Forbes and his pseudohousekeeper had embarked upon a career of murder. They found themselves confronted with an accusation of the crime. A man who was almost as one bereft of reason demanded that he be confronted with Paula Cartright, in order that he might see for himself that she was alive and well.
"Gentlemen," said Perry Mason, lowering his voice impressively, "there was only one thing which the conspirators could do to preserve their secret. There was one more ghastly step which they had to take in order to put the seal of silence upon the lips of the man who was mouthing accusations which they knew would soon be made to the authorities, and would soon result in an investigation. They fell upon him and murdered him, as they had murdered his wife, and they buried his body beside hers, knowing that on the next day, the cement workers would pour cement over the place where the shallow graves were located, forever sealing off the ghastly evidence of the dastardly crime.
"The guilty pair were then confronted with the necessity of explaining the simultaneous absence of both Arthur Cartright and his wife. There was only one way they could do it, and that was by making it appear that husband and wife had become reunited and had run away together. Thelma Benton was ambidextrous. This fact was known to Clinton Forbes. He also knew that it was extremely unlikely any one would have any specimen of the genuine handwriting of Paula Cartright. She was a woman estranged from the world, one who had burnt her bridges behind her. She had no friends to whom she cared to write. There was no one to come forward with a specimen of the woman's handwriting. So the letter was forged. The name was signed, the bridges were burnt once more, and once more the guilty pair proceeded upon their career of deception.
"Gentlemen, I need not mention to you the inevitable result of such a combination of wickedness, founded upon crime, nurtured in deception, and culminating in murder. There were two conspirators, each of whom knew that the other had the power to send the long arm of the law swooping down in righteous reprisal. Thelma Benton was the first to act. She left the house at six o'clock and repaired to a rendezvous with a male friend. What she said to him, we need not ask. We are only concerned with what happened. And, mind you, I am making no case against Thelma Benton and her accomplice, but am only pointing out to you what might have happened, as a reasonable hypothesis upon which the evidence can be explained. Thelma Benton and her accomplice returned to the house. They entered, by using the key of the pseudohousekeeper. Upon guilty feet, the pair stalked their living prey, as though he had been a beast of the jungle. But the sensitive ears of the dog heard and interpreted that which was happening. Alarmed by the barking of the dog, Clinton Forbes stepped out of the bathroom. He saw his housekeeper standing there, and wiped the lather from his face as he started to talk to her. Then he saw the man who was with her, and knew the purpose of her visit. In a panic, he rushed to the bathroom and liberated the dog. The dog sprang at the masculine intruder, and the man shot. The dog fell lifeless to the floor. Forbes struggled with the woman and then there were two more shots fired at close range, and then — silence."
Perry Mason came to an abrupt halt. He stared seriously, solemnly at the jury. In a voice that was so low it could hardly be heard, he said, "Gentlemen, that is all."
He turned and walked back to his seat.
Claude Drumm stared uncertainly at the jury, at the judge, at the hostile faces of those in the courtroom, then shrugged his shoulders.
"No argument," he said.